Morning View
by FGG
Summary: An H/A fic. My first, with Helga and Arnold in their late twenties. Separated for eight years, will they be able to rediscover love?
1. And the day begins

Disclaimer: I would not event pretend to own Hey Arnold for fear of a lawsuit and the producers getting angry at me. All hail HA! Also, the title is NOT a rip off of Incubus. It just sounded right. I respect them too much to be "fresh."  
  
Morning View  
  
It was a heavy morning in Hillwood; with an unusual eerie fog blanketing the streets and several people on their daily communes to work shouting obscenities at unrecognizable faces through the misty veil. A well- educated woman in her late twenties sat at her desk in one of the few modern industrial skyscrapers of the city- Geraldine Complex. As she sat shuffling through papers, her desk phone rang. She lazily eyed the blaring device for a moment, contemplating whether to waste her energy. Sighing in submission, she lifted the phone and muttered a weak "hello". Her close friend and confidant, Dr. Phoebe Hyerdale, responded with an absurdly cheerful greeting. "What the heck are you calling my work at 7:00 for?" Helga said, with a hint of amusement hidden in her tone. Phoebe chirped excitedly, "You will never guess who came to Gerald and my place today!" "Lemme guess, a highly respected doctor from a faraway land, come at your request for a research partner," Helga responded, voice now monotone. "Close, but not really. Just come to my house for dinner tonight at eight, and look spiffy. You are going to really be surprised."  
  
Phoebe hung up without another word, and Helga was left sputtering and annoyed. The last time Phoebe requested for her to come over "looking spiffy," she was met by a charming English @-hole that would knock anyone off of their feet and stab them in the back that did not have a keen eye and wits against such trickery. Helga, being the high school's kick-butt beauty, had alarms against all men worthy of the military, and sensed what Phoebe could not. Needless to say, the pompous doctor had two shiners and hurt manliness for several weeks, and she was not eager to take another round with an arrogant Freudian.  
  
Nevertheless, there was another part of her, a part hardly revealed, that hoped for romance. After he left, she had shut off all hopes for love and compassion. When she was eighteen, how she loved that year, he held her gently and caressed her with the touch of an angel. This man, as you may guess, was Arnold. The boy without a full name. The boy without parents. The boy who had been Helga's torture and lifeline since the age of three. As Helga matured, she slowly budded as a rose, and showed her few closest pals her true nature. Arnold was absolutely fascinated by this change, and began to "like her-like her" as she had for eight years. He asked her to the eighth grade dance, and their relationship grew and matured with its inhabitants.  
  
Two days after her twentieth birthday, though, Arnold was called for by the Greeneye. He said he must find himself and his meaning in the Brazilian jungles, and left her alone at Yale with no one to confide in. She was devastated and shut herself off from the world. Weeks turned into months, and then years, and Helga grew to accept his absence. She steadily warmed, and graduated with a PhD. She started a publishing company and wrote several critically acclaimed novels and poetry collections, two of which were entitled The Boy with the Cornflower Hair and The Pink Book.  
  
Helga sighed as she set down the picture of a younger her and Arnold, hugging through thick coats on a snowy day. 'Better return to work. Hopefully I can go home early and put some brass knuckles in my purse,' she thought, returning to he stacks of submissions and summaries that needed to be leafed through. She gained a papercut for her efforts, cursed, and called her secretary. "This is going to be a long day," she muttered.  
  
Feana- Soooo. Should I continue? I am wondering if anyone enjoys my writing style. Anyhow, reviews are appreciated, and flames are, well, flames. Thanks! 


	2. Dining with the Past

Hey everyone! I'm back with another chapter. I appreciate all of the reviews; it feels wonderful to write, especially when I can please others. Anyhow, on with the story.  
  
Disclaimer: Hey Arnold is a magnificent cartoon that DOES NOT belong to me, and if it did, I would be an extremely happy executive. Also the title is the same as Incubus's CD, but I am not trying to plagiarize.  
  
Morning View  
  
Chapter 2-Dining with the Past  
  
Helga Pataki left the building at four o'clock, hoping to skip the rush-hour traffic, and was met by a flow of eager entrepreneurs speeding, or rather trying to speed, home and to their weekend destinations. Even as she left the parking lot, she was nearly run down by a college jerk. After raising her middle finger in aggression, she crawled through the traffic to her penthouse apartment. 'At least the weather is clearer,' she noted to herself, trying to lighten her own mood. As if the skies heard her, the winds suddenly brought ominous clouds. If this was an omen, she was really going to need her brass knuckles.  
  
She pulled into the parking garage and sighed, glad to be off of the streets. The new guard whistled at her as she waited for the elevator. 'When will they ever learn?' she thought, and used her ever useful middle finger for the second time that day. He indignantly said, "That's no way to treat an officer little lady; but how 'bout you come over and I'll show you?" She shot him a glare that would kill lions and hissed through her teeth, "How about you LEAVE ME ALONE and you won't have to meet Bessie!" She held up her right, sharp-ringed fist menacingly and turned as the elevator dinged, announcing its arrival. "Hey, wait babe," he called gruffly after her. The doors closed, and she relaxed. She needed to focus on tonight. 'Maybe it will be Arnold. That wouldn't be so bad, would it? Sure it would hurt, but his presence would complete me. What am I saying? It will probably be some arrogant scumbag like last time. But..' The elevator opened, and she walked into the hall.  
  
She walked into her apartment and dropped the purse and contracts she had been carrying. She was glad to be the only one on the floor, being that her apartment was so large, and for the small hallway that separated her from the elevator. It gave her a strange sense of. security that she did not have as a child. She grabbed a decaf coke and went to her bedroom. It had been so long since a man had joined her in this room. She had not been entirely celibate during Arnold's absence, but nothing was satisfying anymore. There was just no love. 'Maybe.' She quelled her thoughts swiftly and walked to her closet. Over the years, she had grown out of pink and into red. Not orange red, of course, but a deep, almost blood red. She still wore the occasional pink, though.  
  
As she shuffled through her garments, she spotted an old favorite- the one she wore to the last dinner she had with him. It was long and elegant- her only mostly black dress- and shimmered softly. A split ran down its back, only cloaked by a translucent red fabric. The gentle cut on the left side revealed her leg, and when she tried it on, she was surprised to find that it still fit her figure perfectly. She dubbed her discovery as perfect. The dress was also practical, as it allowed her to run. 'Maybe I'm trying too hard. It probably won't be him. Still...' Her thoughts were interrupted as her phone rang. She groaned, protesting the inevitable. She trudged over to the antagonizing machine and pressed the speakerphone button. Once again, it was Phoebe. "Deja-vu," Helga muttered. Phoebe asked her when she would be over. Helga glanced at her clock and said, "I've plenty of time. I will see you in an hour. Why are you so anxious?" "Oh, it's nothing. Bye!" Once again she hang up. Exactly like that morning.  
  
Helga sighed for the umpteenth time. She located a pair of low black high- heels. Ones she knew that she could run -and- kick with. The call had raised her hopes, but she could not afford to take chances. Her brass knuckles rested on a chair in her workout room. Promptly, she plucked them form their seated position and placed them in her purse. She was not kidding about this. After she made up her face, she put in two intricate silver earrings and a small, delicate silver chain with a diamond-studded "H" on; it was not enough to disturb her neckline, but enough to attract attention.Carefully, she went to the elevator, hoping the guard's shift was over. When she made it to her Ferrari without a disturbance, she smiled. Nothing was stopping her now.  
  
There was a great deal less traffic going to Phoebe's then when she had driven home earlier that day. She was grateful for the Friday. God knows she needed the break. So many people wanted to become published these days, unaware that they were increasing her workload immensely. The few strands loose from her bunned hair gracefully wavered in the wind as she sped down the freeway. She felt her tension mount with every mile, but she knew she must go. Whatever fate had in store was completely unavoidable.  
  
When she arrived at Phoebe's place, two warm smiles and embraces greeted her. "Well, it seems the guest of honor has arrived," Gerald said in a cool voice. He still retained the ultra-coolness that seemed his god-given talent. Phoebe, still a petite woman, wore a small blue dress, and Gerald sported a new tux. Helga noted the potpourri scent and candlelit atmosphere, intrigued. "So where is our exotic visitor?" she inquired, with slightly more eagerness in her tone then she had intended. Phoebe looked up at her, grinning mischievously. Gerald led the candlelit way into the dining room. What she saw half surprised her and was half what she expected. A quaint cherry table had been set for four; no, two complete sets and two half-made places. A glimmering candelabra was placed in the center of the table, and soft, gentle music could be heard in the background.  
  
The real focus of Helga's attention, though, was on none of the surroundings, but of the man standing before his fully set place at the table. There was the most spectacular man she had laid her eyes upon. Muscular, tanned, and six-feet-two, he was eye candy for any girl. Only his football-shaped head clarified his identity. "Arnold!?" Helga cried frantically as she dropped her purse (the brass knuckles made a clang, and Phoebe and Gerald exchanged knowing glances) and ran toward him. He extended his arms just in time to grasp her, and soothed her with shushes and, "it's okay, I'm here." She pushed herself away just enough to give him a meaningful look in his eyes. "Where have you been?" she asked. Arnold's frown deepened, and he sighed.  
  
"The Greeneye. They saw me as their promised one. You remember the story of my birth, right? Well, they had kept my parents after the 'miraculous' curing of the Greeneye epidemic, and then-it was an honor for those people- sacrificed them to the god of health and prosperity. They told me that my parents died happy- all except that their son was not with them. There was no way to call on me until my coming of age, which is twenty for their culture, and thus could not fulfill my parent's wish. They had also wanted to raise me with their principles and conduct code, but there was just no way. They seemed extremely happy when I arrived, and the prophet even said I would bring prosperous seasons. I tried to protest. I told them I had a whole life I was leaving behind- I told them my mate was at home.(he blushed at this) Then, as if to seal me off from the world, they burned my plane. Right in front of me. For years, they treated me as a king, but kept me trapped as a slave. They tried to be kind, I know they did, but I could not stand the captivity. So, after months of planning, I announced that I had a vision that I must go into the jungle and find the white leopard. I said that I must travel alone, and if I was lost forever, that god had accepted me as one of his own. So, with the many treasures and supplies that they gave me, I left. I traveled thousands of miles, using every resource at my disposal to come back home. To Hillwood. I suppose my story to the Greeneye wasn't a complete lie- I must have had the Luck- Leopard god by my side to have traversed such a distance and stayed alive."  
  
As he became silent, Helga gawked. 'He must have been to the gates of Hell and back,' she thought. His chest rose and fell uncertainly, and he cupped her face with a gentle hand. Tilting her head upward, he spoke. "Can you ever forgive me?" She searched his eyes, thinking. He left her alone when she needed him most, alone in a cold college, with two parents, unknown to her at the time, about to literally kill each other; but still, she felt pity. He had been through worse, and needed consolation just as much as she. They sat across from each other, staring intently through the flickering candle flame, holding hands over the food. Phoebe and Gerald, satisfied at their work and unnoticed by the emotional couple, eased out of the door and out to their car. "Man, I could really use some grub after that soul-searchin' thing," Gerald said nonchalantly as he revved up the engine. Phoebe giggled in amusement and they drove down the dark streets of Hillwood, sharing the silent knowledge of their friends with the night air. 


End file.
